


Here In Our Sanctuary

by TDaL



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDaL/pseuds/TDaL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott, a young werewolf, is wandering around a forbidden part of the forest just outside of his pack territory when he bumps into a young mage named Stiles. In a world where werewolves and mages are in constant conflict, the two boys still manage to form a strong friendship in secret. </p><p>AKA</p><p>Five times Stiles does something that makes Scott’s feelings for him grow, and the one time Scott finally does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here In Our Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my second reverse big bang, this time the Sciles one! I got to work with Inkfinch this time who created [wonderful pieces](http://inkfinch.tumblr.com/post/92029739313/for-sciles-reversebang-here-in-our-sanctuary-by) that inspired me to write this giant ball of fluff.  
> Be aware that I got it into my head that Stiles should use Irish slang, which I liberally misused (sorry to any Irish people out there). You can look at the site I used for reference [here](http://www.irishabroad.com/culture/slang/irishslang.asp#5)

+1 (9)

He can’t help but think that he made a bad decision to head out into the woods by himself. Even if the Pharren woods are considered to be a neutral zone between werewolves and mages, there were other creatures roaming amongst the trees that could cause Scott more than enough trouble.

The biggest reason that the young werewolf had gone into the woods by himself was because one of his older pack mates, Jackson, had boasted about how he had gone into Pharren and escaped from a rock troll. 

Scott was currently the youngest cub in the pack with his nine summer cycles and more often than not felt that he had to prove himself in as many ways as he possibly could. Derek had already mastered shifting, Isaac was proving himself to have a more than an adept sense of smell and Jackson just about topped Scott in every other category that there was. 

So when the young werewolf had heard about Jackson’s traipsing into Pharren, he figured that he should be able to make it in and out of the woods in one piece as well. Perhaps he would stumble across a gryphon and escape with a tail feather in his hands. It would be a lot more to show than a tear at the bottom of Jackson’s trousers. 

Now that he was actually walking between the centuries old trees Scott was starting to feel a bit unsure of himself. He had been leaving behind scent markers so he wouldn’t get lost, but the towering trees and ominous sounds that were surrounding him were starting to make him feel nervous.

His heightened senses always made him feel strong and near infallible, even if they were nowhere near the level of Alpha Hale or even at the level of some of his fellow young pack mates, but his senses were working overtime because of his apprehension. Every little sound and movement in the corners of his eyes were amplified and he was a lot jumpier than usual.

Scott clutched the small satchel that contained a flask of goat milk, an apple and a small pastry that he had managed to filch from Mrs. Boyd. He decided for himself that he would walk up towards a giant tree that was about a hundred paces ahead of him. Inwardly he was elated that he had managed to make it so far into Pharren without encountering anything dangerous.

His hands tightened around the strap of his satchel as he quickened his pace to get to the giant tree. Just get to the tree, take a moment to catch his breath and then he could make his way back home. No one would have noticed that he had been gone yet. He hadn’t been gone that long. Next time he would have to bring someone along with him, maybe Isaac or Danny.

It was a good idea. It would be much better to go out with a small group and come back triumphant. His pace quickened and dried leaves started crunching underneath his feet. 

Fifty paces left.

Twenty-five paces left.

Scott was about eight paces away from the base of the giant tree and he jumped down off of a shallow ledge, landing on top of something that let out a shriek. He let out a surprised shout when whatever he had landed on collapsed and took him along with it. The werewolf fell face first into the dirt, the giant tree only two paces away. He had been so close. Now he was going to be torn apart by the thing that he had jumped on to.

He dreaded the next few seconds, waiting with baited breath for the wrath that would undoubtedly be thrust upon him. It was only until he heard a moan of pain and a grumbled curse that he dared to look over to where he had fallen.  
There was a lump of blue and brown curled up just under the ledge, letting out what seemed to be more curses in a different tongue. 

What was it? Had he fallen on top of a satyr or some sort of nymph? Either way, he was in for a world of pain. Scott got up to his knees, never taking his eyes off of the lump as it started moving as well. Hopefully he would be able to distract it long enough to get away. He reached around and wrapped his fingers around an acorn. It wasn’t much, but it’d be good enough for him.

The lump let out a long groan as it finally sat up and an arm appeared. He tensed as he watched it reach up and push a hood aside, fingers running over short brown hair. These few seconds gave him sufficient time to return to himself, enough to realize that the lump was barely larger than he was.

“I should eat the head off of you, you mentaller. I could have been a gnome and gnawed at your ankles or something!” Scott tensed and tightened his fingers around the acorn as the lump turned around to face him as it spat out the harsh words.  
It wasn’t until he saw that the lump was a young boy who was about his own age that he started relaxing. The boy pushed himself up off the ground and started brushing off his robes. 

“Aren’t you gonna say something in your defense, you queer hawk? Surely your ma taught you some lessons in manners.” Whiskey brown eyes glared at him as the boy placed his hands on his hips.

“I- Uh. What did you call me?” Scott finally stuttered out. He still held the acorn in his hand as he stood up as well. Even with the distance between them, Scott could tell that he was slightly taller than the boy standing in front of him.  
The robed boy threw his hands up in frustration, letting out an irritated huff. “Great. An eejit with no brains tripped over me! Just my luck!” The boy bent back towards the ground and started putting some things back into a basket that had fallen over.  
Scott guessed that he was supposed to be insulted. “H-hey! I’m not stupid! You’re the one who was kneeling under a ledge, completely hidden!”

Brown eyes snapped back up to him. “Oh yeah? Well, if you’re not stupid, then what are you?”

“For your information, I’m a werewolf!” Oh god. Why had he said that? He had just given the boy enough ammunition to get rid of him. They were in the middle of the woods, there was probably a big chance that there was a rowan tree around or wolfsbane growing in the area.

“Oh, the big, bad wolf! Watch as I shiver in my trousers.” The boy scoffed as he picked up the basket and moved his gaze over Scott, as if he was sizing him up. “What’s a pint-sized pup like you doing around these parts?”

The boy didn’t seem to be scared of him at all, if his words were any indication. Scott tried to pinpoint what the boy was feeling by listening to his heart, but it was all over the place. There was no way that he could get a reading off of someone who wasn’t showing normal traits of their feelings with his few inexperienced summers.

“Look who’s talking. Compared to you, that’s just what I am!”

And there he was, running his mouth off again. Camden had warned him off of blurting out whatever came to mind without a second thought. The last time that he had inadvertently spoken without thinking, he had gotten a swift slap to the back of his head from his mother.

Scott waited with his heart thumping in his chest as the boy’s expression changed from anger to confusion and then something that he couldn’t quite place. It was silent except for the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves above as neither of them said anything.

The robed boy’s mouth suddenly curled up into a grin and he let out a chortle. “Ah! Fair play! Guess you might not be too much of a mentaller if your retorts are so weak.” The boy reached up and scratched the side of his nose as his chortle turned into actual laughter.

It wasn’t until he realized that he was laughing as well that he noticed how relaxed he had suddenly gotten by the blatant non-aggressive response. Scott registered in the back of his mind that the boy had pretty much insulted him again, but none of that mattered since he was no longer in danger. He dropped the acorn and scratched the underside of his jaw as his laughter trailed off.

The boy in front of him was patting his chest as he stopped laughing as well. The grin on his face reached all the way up to his eyes, the brown depths twinkling in joy. “Now tell me, what’s a werewolf doing wandering in these parts of Pharren?”  
“I- One of my pack mates came into the woods a few days ago and got away from a troll! He’s always trying to better the rest of us and I wanted to beat him at his own game. Maybe bring back a gryphon feather or something of the sort.” He wasn’t exactly sure why he was telling this boy everything, but now that he realized that he wasn’t in any danger Scott couldn’t help but over share. 

“Why didn’t you say so? You do realize that you don’t actually have to see a gryphon to find a feather right?” The boy reached into his robes and muttered under his breath for a few moments as he pulled out a necklace. He tugged off a feather before walking over to Scott and held it out to the young werewolf. “Here. I have more of these at home.”

Scott couldn’t help but take a step back and eye the feather in caution. He noticed that the twinkling in the boy’s eyes dimmed when he caught the movement. Just seeing that made him feel bad. With a gulp, Scott reached out and took the feather. “You know, my mother always cautions me from taking things from strangers.”

“Oh!” The boy perked up once more when Scott had taken the feather from him. “I’m Genim Stilinski. Young mage prodigy of course. You can call me Stiles though.”

The boy- no, Stiles- beamed once more as he introduced himself. Scott should have realized that the other boy was a mage now that he thought about it. The coloring and simplicity of his clothing should have given it away. There were two bronze rings in the shell of his right ear and a bronze stud in the lobe of his left ear. The charms hanging off of the necklace that he had just pulled out had bronze decorations that probably had some connection to his coven. 

Scott knew that he was supposed to be weary of Stiles. After all, werewolves and magic users had been feuding for centuries. They were in a time of moderate peace right now, but Scott was sure that all it took was a single action for the peace to come to an end. 

Pharren woods were considered neutral territory between the occupied lands. Not many ‘wolves went into Pharren because of this and he could only assume that it would be the same for magic users.

“Scott McCall. Werewolf. Obviously.” He had already blurted out what he was and Stiles hadn’t run off or tried to hurt him. “Wait. Wouldn’t you still be called a witch? I’m pretty sure you haven’t completed your training yet.” Scott was a bit vague on the exact goings of mages, but he knew that ‘mage’ was the title of a highly accomplished practitioner. 

“Oh no! I can’t believe you actually know that!” Stiles groaned and he brought his hands up to cover his face. “Go on then. Ask me if I dance naked under the moonlight and chant as I cover myself in dirt.”

The young werewolf blinked and cocked his head to the side as he thought about Stiles’ response. He had heard rumors that witches did practice peculiar things in their magic. 

“Wouldn’t that be a strange thing to ask though? Because I’m sure that you could ask me the same thing.” Even if Stiles seemed a little bit scatter brained, he didn’t really strike Scott as the type to fit into general stereotypes. In fact, he seemed the type to vehemently go against stereotypes.

Stiles peered at Scott from between his fingers. He slowly brought his hands down and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a more subdued smile. “You know, I think I really like you, Scott McCall.”

“The feeling is mutual, Stiles Stilinski.” Scott smiled back as Stiles stepped forward to slap him on the shoulder and the two of them laughed, hidden underneath the foliage of the giant tree and far away from any prejudice. 

-

+2 (1))  
He was late. Usually they met up shortly after the sun had reached its zenith on what Stiles had dubbed Tyr’s Day. Scott had humored Stiles with the naming of the days of the week since the pack tended to tell time by the phases of the moon. The magic users seemed to have a much more detailed system. 

They had been meeting four times a month for an entire passing. Since their faithful meeting near the giant tree, the relationship between them had grown strong. The tree, Stiles had called it ‘his tree’ as it was an Alder tree and it had something to do with the time of year he had been born and Scott didn’t even try to understand what was coming out of Stiles’ mouth most of the time, was their meeting place. It had become their little sanctuary of sorts to get away from expectations and anything that was bothering them.

Scott had originally not even planned on meeting Stiles today, but he hadn’t missed a day yet and he didn’t want his friend to worry about him. He ignored the aching throb inside of his chest as he approached the Alder tree.

Even without his heightened hearing he would have been able to hear Stiles. The young witch was puttering around inside of the Alder tree and making a general nuisance of himself. A lot of different animals and creatures veered away from the area because of the strange sounds Stiles always made when he was in the tree. Over the past few moon cycles Scott had noticed that Stiles’ distinct magical signature surrounded the area around the tree as well. 

The day that Scott had stumbled over Stiles, the young witch had actually scouted out the old, hollow Alder tree to become his home away from home. It had once been a burrow for another creature and part of the hollow inside reached into the ground. When Scott was sitting on the floor inside of the tree technically only his head was above ground. Since then Stiles had make crude windows in the bark and they had filled the inside with some pillows.

Scott placed his hand next to one of the windows and bent down so he could peer through it. Stiles was indeed puttering around on the inside. The brunet was moving things around and grumbling under his breath. It was clear that he wasn’t in the best of moods.

Scott blinked as he tried to catch his breath, trying not to dig his nails into the bark of the tree. “Hey Stiles.”

Stiles let out a surprised yelp and dropped a boulder that he was trying to move out of the space. He barely managed to shift his foot to the side to avoid having the rock land on it. The witch turned towards the window. “Scotty! You had me worried there buddy. I thought you had actually come across a gryphon this time.”

“Sorry. I’m really late.” A part of him wanted to come up with some sort of excuse, but he knew that he was terrible at lying and Stiles was sure to catch him in the act either way.

“Yeah, you are. Eejit. Get in here already! We’ve got to catch up. I have the juiciest things to tell you.” Stiles picked up the boulder once more and moved towards the entrance to get rid of it.

The werewolf chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Stiles was always throwing around mage words. There were so many of them and it had taken Scott a long time to understand the ones that were thrown at him often. He was still getting some of them mixed up.

He moved over to the entrance, bending down to take the boulder out of Stiles’ hands. Even if they were the same size, Scott still had a lot of benefits with his werewolf nature. He was the one who usually did most of the heavy lifting. It didn’t stop Stiles from grumbling under his breath every time he saw a display of strength though. 

Scott joined Stiles in the tree, once the boulder had been set aside. To say that he had been skeptical about the idea of staying in a hollow tree that had once been a burrow was a bit of an understatement. Stiles had only found the tree a short while before the two of them had met and it had still smelled like whatever had inhabited it beforehand. To say that the smell bothered Scott was an even bigger understatement.

Over the past few moon cycles the smell had faded though and now the tree smelled like him, Stiles and the distinct smell of Stiles’ magic. There wasn’t really a way for Scott to explain what his magic smelled like. Stiles had asked him to describe what magic smelled like before, but he hadn’t been able to tell him, much to the witch’s disappointment.

Stiles had flopped on the mound of pillows that had accumulated in the back corner of the burrow, looking slightly miffed. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Scott.

The werewolf could feel the scrutiny of his friend’s gaze. He had been late to meet Stiles before, but never so late. It was almost reaching sundown and that was usually the time that both of them headed home. Getting together was always the highlight for both boys. 

“-ott. Scott.” Scott looked up. It seemed that Stiles had been calling out to him for some time now, since the look on his face had shifted to one of concern. “Welcome back, buddy. Are you alright? You seem a bit shook to me.”

“I’m fine. I am.” It sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself. Scott managed to suppress a wince at his unconvincing words. Stiles wasn’t looking the least bit convinced either. 

He brought his arms behind his back and ducked his head down so he could avoid Stiles’ gaze by staring at the ground. He reached out with his right hand to grab onto his left wrist, wincing when his claws dig into his skin. There was blood dripping onto his fingertips. The coppery smell filled the air only a split second later. He really shouldn’t have come to the burrow. He should have stayed away. Scott already started to back up to leave when Stiles jumped up from the pile of pillows and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Scotty. You’re not fine. Tell me what’s bothering you.” Stiles bended down so he could peer up at Scott’s face. 

Scott closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The fierce concern that was wafting off of Stiles was not helping his self-control at all. He wasn’t anywhere near close to having full control over his shifting. Strong emotions always got the better of him and he would shift without meaning to. This was part of the reason why he hadn’t wanted to seek out Stiles’ company for the day, but he couldn’t keep away.

Being around Stiles was so different compared to being around his pack. The pack was family and they were a tight knit group. Whenever Scott was with Stiles he couldn’t help but feel a different sort of ease. Out here in the burrow it was only the two of them and they only had to worry about each other. The burrow was a place where they could relax; spend time together to share things they would have kept to themselves otherwise.

That was probably the reason why Scott was driven to meet with Stiles today despite his inner conflictions. Stiles was a world of calm to be around even though he was anything but calm himself. There was just something about his company that made Scott feel safe and not judged.

“I- There’s-” His voice was already sounding rougher than it usually did. Scott ran his tongue over his sharpened canines. He could feel Stiles’ gaze staring up at his downturned face, but he didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew they would be blazing yellow.

Stiles had never seen Scott shift before, but he had tried to get Scott to do it on several occasions. The witch had never seen a werewolf before he had met Scott and he hadn’t seen a shifted werewolf either.

Scott turned away from Stiles and covered his face with his fists. He didn’t want Stiles to see him like this. “I’ll tell you next Tyr’s day. I’ve got to go now.”

He should have known that Stiles wouldn’t have let him leave so easily when he felt the witch reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

“Scotty… Please tell me. I want to know now because I need to figure out a way to make you feel better.” Stiles’ voice was hushed for once, concern laced in his tone.

“I don’t think you can make me feel better Stiles.” Mother moon, his voice was wavering now. As if his distress wasn’t already apparent enough.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try, you mentaller. Come on. Tell me.”

He didn’t know if it was Stiles’ tone of voice, his own need to just let out his own emotions or something entirely different, but he couldn’t help but blurt out everything at once.

“My father left the pack today and I don’t know why. No one even told me until I felt-” His voice caught in his throat as the throbbing in his chest became stronger. “-I felt it. One second he was there and the next he was just torn away. It wasn’t like what happened when my abuela left the earth and joined the moon. It felt like someone grabbed onto a piece of me and pulled it out! There’s a hole in my chest and it hurts. It hurts so badly, Stiles! I’m scared and confused and I don’t know what’s going to happen now or if I’m ever going to feel better because I can’t-”

Whatever he was going to say stayed stuck in his throat as Stiles all but collided into his back and wrapped his long gangly arms around Scott’s waist. He could feel the witch’s short, prickly hair run against the side of his neck and the huffing of his breath on his nape.

Scott couldn’t help but let out a whine as he turned around in Stiles’ embrace so he could wrap his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck, shuddering as he let out a soft sob. All the while as he cried, Stiles’ arms remained wrapped tight around his waist and eventually the witch started swaying them back and forth softly. It took Scott an embarrassingly long time before he could get a hold of himself. He breathed in Stiles’ earthy scent and calmed down more as he focused on the witch and their surroundings. The fact that he was with Stiles in their little sanctuary became very soothing to him once he focused on them.

Even after he got a hold of himself, Scott didn’t let go of Stiles. The sudden rush of emotions had gone now, but he was still having problems shifting back. He didn’t want Stiles to see what he looked like when he shifted. He didn’t want to scare Stiles with the way that he looked, especially since they had only been friends for a single passing.

The friendship that he had with Stiles was precious to him and he didn’t want to ruin it because of what he was. Stiles had been adamant that he had no problems that Scott was a werewolf. That he, in fact, was delighted to know that the rumors some of his fellow witches and mages spread weren’t true.

They hadn’t gone in depth too much about what life was like on their opposite sides of Pharren because they were still feeling each other out. Scott couldn’t help but think that even though their friendship seemed to be stable, that it would only take one little thing for Stiles to change his mind and either leave or demand Scott to leave.

“Alright. I can’t stand for ages with your heavy self leaning on me. You’re getting bogeys all over me too.” Stiles started to pull away from him as he spoke. 

Scott panicked and held on tighter to keep Stiles from pulling away and seeing him. He forgot to account for the fact that Stiles was more fragile than what he was used to and probably squeezed too hard, because the witch let out a pained yelp.

Without meaning to, Scott let go of Stiles. He watched in shock as Stiles fell back onto the pillows with a pained look on his face. The witch hissed in pain as he pushed his cloak aside to look at his shoulder. Scott was horrified to see blood. He looked down at his claws, not at all surprised to see a bit of blood on them.

“Stiles! I am so sorry. I can’t even tell you how much!” A multitude of apologies spilled over his lips. He kneeled down in front of Stiles and reached out to see how much damage his claws had done before he pulled his hands back. His claws were still out and he didn’t want to hurt Stiles again.

The witch grimaced a little as he rolled his shoulder. “Oh, come on! It’s just a scratch. There’s nothing to be sorry about you eejit.”

“I cut you! You’re bleeding! Of course we have to worry! I hurt you and I didn’t mean to and-”

“Exactly! You didn’t mean to hurt me.” Stiles let go of the fabric of his cloak and turned to look straight at Scott. His brown eyes were steely in reassurance as he stared Scott down. “This stuff happens. Also, do you remember how accident prone I am? This is not a big deal. At all. Do you understand me, Scotty?”

Scott gulped and slowly nodded. Stiles rolled his eyes before leaning back against the pillows. There was a slight flash of discomfort that flitted over his face, but it was gone within a split second. 

“Nice everything by the way.” Stiles made a gesture around his face and nudged at Scott’s knee with his foot.

He reached up and pressed his hand to his face, thinking that maybe he was horribly splotchy and puffy from having cried. Scott sucked in a sharp breath when he realized that he was still shifted. In the moments after he realized that he had hurt Stiles, Scott had completely forgotten that he hadn’t tried to shift back yet and that he had been trying to keep Stiles from seeing it.

The witch didn’t really seem bothered though. There was a passing glance here and there as he probably took in the differences and details of Scott’s face, but he didn’t seem troubled at all. “Aren’t you scared of me now?”

Stiles let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s funny. Why would I be scared of you, you eejit? I might have been if you had growled and gone for my throat, but the way you were worried and practically tripping over yourself to apologize to me? I didn’t think that you could hurt a mouse, but now I’m sure you wouldn’t even be able to squash a bug without feeling bad about it. We’re friends. Why would I be bothered by something that you are inherently?”

The shock was probably written on his face. Only minutes before he had been so sure that him shifting would be cause for ending their friendship, and here Stiles was just waving him off without a care in the world. 

It now started to sink in just how close he and Stiles had gotten. Scott could feel his cheeks flush as he stared down at the ground. He couldn’t believe that he had doubted Stiles. Not once had the young witch shown anything akin to dislike or disgust to him no matter the occurrence. 

Stiles had just laughed and brought in flowers and herbs in the burrow when Scott had complained about the leftover scent of the previous tenant. Stiles never failed to roll his eyes at Scott when he displayed his strength. Stiles wasn’t flinching away because Scott had accidently hurt him. 

Stiles genuinely liked Scott for who he was.

He had never had anyone that genuinely liked him before. Derek tolerated him, Isaac was always shy around him and Jackson was just a bully. The only other person who he could think of was his mother, but that was logical to him.  
Now he could feel his mouth stretching into a grin as he looked back up at Stiles. “Does this mean that we’re best friends?”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he shot up, almost whacking their foreheads together in doing so. “I would certainly hope so! The way I always have to put up with you!”

The witch’s face and tone betrayed his serious words with a joking undertone. Scott let out a laugh as he launched himself at Stiles, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. They fell back into the pillows and he quickly let go when Stiles winced in pain. He rolled onto his back and started laughing along with Stiles as they lay together, side by side in their little sanctuary. 

-

+3 (12)

This was probably the first time since they had met that they decided to meet during the night. Scott put some apples in a basket and wrapped his red cape around his shoulders to beat back the chill of the early April night. He looked out the window of his house just before he slipped out as quietly as possible to avoid waking his mother. It would be hard to explain his way out of this one if she caught him.

The waxing moon shone down on him as he quietly slipped away from the pack and into Pharren woods. Years ago it would have been hard to navigate in the woods in the dark for Scott, even aided with his heightened senses, but the route had become so engrained into his mind that he didn’t stumble or get turned around even once.

Scott wasn’t exactly sure what the waxing moon signified, but apparently it had been special since today had been the mark of Stiles’ twelfth spring. The woods were silent around him as he walked towards their tree. 

It was late enough that pretty much every creature that roamed within Pharren was asleep. The only sounds that he heard around him were bats and small scurrying animals running away from him. 

He should have heard Stiles in retrospect. Scott had just jumped down the small ledge next to their tree when a figure swung down from the tree’s branches and swiped an apple out of the basket he was carrying.  
Scott let out a surprised yelp, jumping back in surprise. Some of the apples were jostled out of the basket and fell down at his feet as he jerkily looked up.

Stiles was hanging above him, his legs wrapped around one of the larger branches as he grinned down at the werewolf. The witch took a bite out of the apple before he started swinging his body back and forth slightly. “Hey there Scotty wolf.”  
Scott let out a huff and bent down to pick up the apples that had fallen on the ground. “What are you doing hanging from the tree like that?”

It wasn’t like they hadn’t climbed the branches of the massive alder tree before. It was just that they had never done it in the dark before and Stiles wasn’t exactly known for his prowess in even standing upright. Scott had watched him trip over nothing even when they were moving around during the day. Plus Stiles didn’t have the advantage that Scott had with his eyes that made it easier to navigate in the dense darkness of the forest.

“Waiting for you of course!” Stiles took another bite of the apple. “Oh, and I can’t get down so you need to help me.”

Of course Stiles had managed to get himself stuck. Scott hadn’t been expecting anything to go right with Stiles climbing the tree in the middle of the night. He set down the basket and looked up at the mage. “Grab onto my hands and bring your legs over the branch. I’ll catch you.”

“Will it work with one hand too?”

Scott was puzzled by the question before he noticed that Stiles was holding a big brown book in his other hand. He had never seen the book before, but it had a distinct magic aura coming off of it. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was exactly and why Stiles had felt the need to bring it out with him tonight.

“I don’t know, Stiles. Maybe hand me the book first and I’ll put it aside?” He reached up to take the book from his friend when Stiles’ grip tightened around it and he pulled it closer to his body.

“I can’t just let you hold my grimoire, Scott.” Stiles tossed the apple to the side. He then turned back to Scott and held out his now free hand. 

Scott looked down at the ground and positioned himself as stable as possible before he reached up to grab Stiles’ free hand. After a moment of contemplation he reached up to grab onto the witch’s heavy cloak near his other shoulder just to have a better grip.  
He nodded when he was ready, watching as Stiles first removed one leg from around the branch before taking a deep breath and removing the other as well. 

Stiles was definitely heavier that he looked. Even though he had been ready for it and he had stabilized his stance, Scott could feel it as he leaned too far backwards and started falling. The witch above him let out a shriek as they tumbled backwards into the dirt.  
It took a moment before Scott could regain his breath. He groaned underneath Stiles and pushed the witch off of him. 

Both of them stayed on the ground as they caught their breath, not saying a word. Eventually it was Stiles who sat up first. He was clutching his grimoire to his chest and running his fingers over the spine of it.  
Scott knew what a grimoire was, but it seemed to be a lot more significant to Stiles than he had thought a book could be to someone. “So when did you get that?”

Stiles looked over at him, his fingers still trailing over the spine of the grimoire. “The grimoire? Today actually. Every witch gets one of their own once they’ve reached their twelfth name day. It’s already filled with the generic spells, but I can add to it as my powers and I grow.”

The werewolf sat up as well, eyeing the grimoire carefully. It felt different than anything he had seen before. It was almost like it had a life like presence to it, which was impossible. There was no way for a book to be alive. It probably just had to do with its magical properties.

“Apparently now was a special time to get it.” Stiles began. “With my name day being on a waxing moon this year. There was this big celebration and everything. It’s the time for new beginnings, positive change and good luck. I even saw my mom.”  
That threw Scott off. Stiles had told him that his mother had passed away before either of them had met. There were often moments when Stiles would just be talking and then suddenly throw in a little anecdote of his mother. After the witch realized what he was saying he would close off and reek of despair and sadness. As nice as it was to hear about the, apparently, vibrant mother that Claudia had once been, Scott always hated that thinking about her made Stiles so sad. 

Stiles must have noticed his confusion as he carried on. “Not really saw her, saw her. I could just feel her presence and all. It was grand.”

The happy and content feeling that had surrounded Stiles up until now started to make way for the sour feeling of sadness. Scott scooted over next to Stiles and threw an arm over his shoulder. The witch moved closer as well and rested his head on Scott’s shoulder, one of his hands coming up to grab onto the werewolf’s cloak.

Stiles had been there for Scott when his father had left the pack, so Scott was committed to being there for Stiles whenever the witch needed comfort. 

That night they stayed huddled up together in the darkness by their tree just reveling in each other’s presence. They had fallen asleep at one point and hadn’t woken up in time to make it back home before either of their parents woke up.  
Even as Scott’s mother reamed him for staying out all night without permission and for no apparent reason at all, Scott couldn’t help but smile inwardly as he thought of how at peace he and Stiles had been that night.

-

+4 (15)

It had been a slow day. Scott was leaning against the inside wall of the alder tree, staring out of the triskele adorned window. It was one of the many things that he and Stiles had added into their little sanctuary over the years. The window had been a bit of a joke at first, when Scott had arrived at the tree to find Stiles fitting it into the bark. 

It was one of the fixtures that had remained over time and become a symbol for them. On the wall on his other side they had carved and built shelves using rocks and the bark of the tree. It was filled with books, jars with substances containing magical properties in them, and a lot of other things.

Over the past few years Scott and Stiles had smuggled in various things from home to make the tree more livable on the inside. When there had once been dirt, rocks and rotted wood there was now a pile of stolen pillows, blankets and other items that made it look more like a home than a burrow that had been fashioned into a hiding place for two young boys. 

The rain that had been falling for over five nights was unrelenting, even as Scott pulled his knees up towards his chest and reached out to trace the window pane with his fingers. The amount of rain that they had been having was the most in over fifteen summers as Scott’s mother had told him.

The rain hadn’t stopped him and Stiles from meeting each other on their usual Tyr’s day. When Scott had arrived he had been soaked to the bone, but Stiles had just opened his grimoire and used a spell to heat up the inside of the burrow. Scott’s clothing had been dried in little to no time at all.

The grimoire that Stiles kept carrying around after his twelfth name day was coming in handy for quite a few of their endeavors, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Scott liked it all that much.

On the day when he had first encountered the book he had had a strange feeling that it had almost seemed like it was alive. It was alive, in its own way.

It liked to grow plants and flowers whenever it, or Stiles, was in a good mood. It also tended to shoot out shards of razor sharp crystals and thrones whenever it was in a bad mood. On one particular occasion it had even shot out lightening when it had been throwing a tantrum. That had been the first and last time that Scott had tried to touch the grimoire. 

Whenever Stiles was reciting spells from the pages of the grimoire though, it always gave off a very strong and concentrated scent of magic. When Stiles was doing magic in the confines of their burrow the small space was immediately flooded with the scent of the magic and it could become a very strong and nearly suffocating smell depending on the spell that was being cast.

Scott knew better than to complain about it because the book had, after all, become a part of Stiles after he had gotten it. A witch was nothing without their grimoire. Even if it did tend to have a mind of its own. 

Stiles is obviously very attached to the book. Since he had gotten it, Scott hadn’t seen the young witch without it. Stiles insisted that the grimoire was a pretty good teacher. More spells had been written on the yellow pages over the years and it was clearly Stiles’ belonging. It was covered in little doodles and notes in the margins of spell that Stiles had been experimenting with. 

Right now it was giving off a light, sweet scent. Scott pulled his eyes away from the rain pattering on the window pane to look over at Stiles, who was lying down on his stomach next to him. 

He caught Stiles’ brown eyes for a moment and held them for a few seconds. There was a pencil hanging from Stiles’ lips as he watched Scott. It was a short while later that the witch seemed to realize that he had been staring and he turned away. Scott watched as the tips of his ears turn red and he smiled at the sight.

It wasn’t long before Stiles started fidgeting, no doubt still feeling Scott’s eyes on him. He started tapping his fingers against the mug that was next to him, causing the bangles on his wrist to jangle and the ring on his finger to catch the light of the candle suspended on the ceiling and the light shone into Scott’s eyes. 

The light, sweet scent gave way to something a bit more tangy and sharp as Stiles started fidgeting more and more as he started muttering under his breath as well. Scott leaned to the side and peered over Stiles’ shoulder to try and see what the witch was doing.

“What are you trying to do this time?” He eventually asked.

Stiles gave a jerk as his shoulders tightened and he turned his head towards Scott. The pencil bobbed up and down as the brunet started to talk. “I was just looking through my grimoire. I don’t tend to look in the earlier pages nowadays. Those are all spells that we have perfected already. But there are some that are pretty sound either way. It’s nice to just dabble in something familiar on a day like this.”

It was only when Stiles was practicing new spells that he tended to be quiet and still. Spells were one of the only things that he could expend his full concentration on. Stiles kept trying to improve them or make the spells do something more than what they were made for.

This either ended in great success or immense failure. Scott still felt phantom pain whenever Stiles tried to summon fire.

“I mean, it’s bucketing outside right now. It’s quite the way to start the winter, but it still makes it all gloomy outside even though rain is technically washing away and cleansing everything. Most of everything outside has already bloomed and is in hibernation for the season. I just felt like-” Stiles’ gaze went back down to his grimoire as the red on his ears spread down to his neck.

Scott couldn’t help but smile as he watched Stiles. Sometimes the witch became very closed off about his goings with magic, as if he suddenly started remembering that Scott wasn’t very fond of the scent of magic in general.

Stiles pushed himself up to his knees and grabbed something from between the pages before holding it out to Scott. “Here, this might brighten up your day a little.”

Between his fingers was a pink plum blossom. So that had been the scent that Scott had caught up on. He thought that it had smelled familiar. “Thanks Stiles.”

He grinned at the witch as he grabbed the blossom from his friend. Scott contemplated what to do with it for a moment before he tucked the stem behind his ear. The nice tangy scent billowed around him as he took a deep breath through his nose.  
Stiles ducked his head once more and Scott grinned even wider. He tried to ignore the fluttering feelings in his chest as he watched Stiles mutter under his breath and pull the grimoire closer to him. Lately they had always been showing up whenever Stiles did little, seemingly insignificant things for him.

“You should try to grow me an entire tree next time. Make sure that it blossoms all year round.” Scott teased, gleeful when Stiles relaxed at the statement.

“There are so many things that I can do and all you want is a forever blossoming plum tree? Really Scott, you’re such an eejit that sometimes I wonder how I’ve stuck with you for so many passings.” Stiles shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Contrary to his words he actually grabbed a loose page and started writing on it, no doubt already thinking up of a way to manipulate the original spell to make it work the way he wanted to.

Scott reached up and gently ran his fingers over the soft petals of the blossom before breathing the scent in once more. He had no misgivings at all that it wouldn’t be long before he actually had a forever blossoming plum tree.

It was just like Stiles to do something like that for him and it was those little things that he did that reminded Scott why they were such good friends. It was these moments that he cherished the most of them spending time together.

Despite everything that he had been told by the pack about their past with witches, being with Stiles showed him just how easy it was for them to coexist if they just tried.

Maybe they would end up being the first stepping stone into a more peaceful truce that promoted togetherness. Maybe one day.

-

+5 (17)  
Scott was trying to ignore the burning in his face as Stiles leaned close to inspect his arm. He had taken off his tunic when the witch had insisted that he wanted to see Scott’s pack tattoo properly. The tattoo was very simple. It was just two black bands on his left bicep. 

He had recently passed his coming of age, his eighteenth summer and the tattoo was a design of his own. As the youngest pack member in his generation, he had been the last to get his tattoo and he was very proud of it. 

It was very simple. Especially when compared to the tattoos of some of his fellows pack members. Derek had gotten the pack triskelion between his shoulder blades, Cora had a constellation of stars going down her neck and Jackson had gotten scales on his shoulder for whatever reason. The simplicity of his tattoo hadn’t meant the pain had been any less though. With the accelerated healing that werewolves had, they had to use a special wolfsbane ink to get it to stay underneath the skin long enough for them to torch the area and actually make the tattoo permanent. To say that it had hurt was putting it lightly.

Now he was showing off his tattoo to Stiles. The witch was staring at it very closely and had started running his fingers over the black ink. The soft sensation sent shivers down Scott’s spine. He tried to ignore it as he sat up straight and resolutely stared out the triskele window of the burrow.

“I don’t like it.”

“Excuse me?” Scott jerked his head to the side so he could stare at the witch with wide eyes.

Stiles rubbed his chin before he reached up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Don’t look so gob smacked! You kept telling me about your whole coming of age and the tattoos that your pack mates had gotten and now you show me two simple black lines.”

Now Scott was feeling a different sort of embarrassed. He had hoped that Stiles would have approved of his choice of tattoo. He had never been much of a big gesture type of person; this had fit him a lot better.

Deep down he knew all that mattered was that he liked his tattoo, but it certainly struck a chord to see that his best friend didn’t like it at all. The witch had stepped back now, still scratching the back of his head as he looked at the tattoo on Scott’s bicep.

The tattoo had a great deal of meaning in the pack. Scott didn’t know the exact history behind it, but he knew that the act of getting a tattoo was ‘to leave a mark’ as a rite of passage. He and Stiles had been discussing their own rites of passage for the past few months.

With both of them reaching their eighteenth passing it meant that a lot more responsibilities would be thrown at them. It meant further integration into their own societies as adults which meant that the time they would be able to spend together would become significantly less. After nearly ten summers of meeting up every Tyr’s day, it would be hard to get used to the fact that they wouldn’t be able to see each other as much anymore.

Scott could hardly remember what his life had been like before he had met Stiles. All he knew was that Stiles had been such a positive point in his life and this wasn’t something that he was willing to give up so easily.

“Hello? Scott? You mentaller, can you get out of your head and tell me what you’re thinking?”

He snapped back to attention as Stiles started waving his hand in front of his face. Judging by the look on the witch’s face, he had been trying to get Scott’s attention for a few minutes.

The werewolf cleared his throat. “You really don’t like it?”

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s just that you were waxing poetry about this whole tattoo thing that I had kind of been expecting something a little more grand? A little more out there?”

“I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” It still didn’t mean that the hurt he felt became any less though. Scott turned to look back at Stiles only to have his tunic thrown at his face.

“Now put your shirt on before you poke my eye out. I’ve got to survive the rest of the afternoon so I can give you my present.”

A present? Scott pulled his tunic over his head like Stiles asked before following after the witch. Any other time Stiles would have taken a gander over his shoulder and said something snarky about the werewolf looking like a lost puppy, but he actually seemed to be very serious now.

Stiles walked over to the mountain of pillows where he had tossed his cloak on. He reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a small item. The witch stared resolutely down at the item for a few moments before he turned back to Scott and held out his hand.

After a moment of hesitation Scott reached out and grabbed Stiles’ wrist. He could feel Stiles’ pulse quicken underneath his fingers, but he was too focused on what was laying in the palm of his hand to give it too much thought.

It was a thick brown leather band with a metal ornament sewn onto it. The leather was braided and Scott could see that it was definitely handmade. Stiles really wasn’t the sort to make something so small and intricate. A lot of time had gone into braiding the leather and the metal ornament looked like it had been handmade too.

The metal piece looked similar to a triskele. Instead of a spiral the three arms almost looked like a tip of a finger with a claw. Between each claw there was a small, rounded triangle. 

Braided leather was something that Scott saw Stiles wearing a lot; it was an item worn often by witches. The triskele was closely tied to Scott’s pack, with the Hale triskelion being their pack symbol. All in all, it was a very clear coming together of both of their cultures in a way that Scott hadn’t seen before.

Stiles must have put a lot of thought into creating the bracelet and the triskele. Scott looked up at his friend with a soft smile.

“This is amazing, Stiles. Did you really make this by yourself?”

“You bet I did, eejit. I made one for myself too.” Stiles pushed up the sleeve of his tunic and showed that he was wearing a similar leather band, the only difference being that it was black. 

Scott’s soft smile turned into a grin as he grabbed the leather band designated for him so he could wrap it around his wrist. It took a few tries for him to grab onto the two hanging strips properly so he could pull it tight. 

When he had it on properly, Scott held out his hand so it was next to Stiles’. Now that they were both wearing the identical bracelets it felt like something had solidified even more between the both of them. 

At first Scott had been scared that because of their comings of age they were going to get new responsibilities and eventually stop meeting like they had been doing for so many passings. Now he knew that he was always going to have a part of Stiles with him no matter what.

The band would always be a symbol of the time that the two of them had spent together, the strong friendship that they had developed despite the differences between their families and how they had endured by leaning on each other. This was going to be a symbol of their infallible friendship and it was something that Scott was always going to hold dear. 

If for whatever reason he would eventually fall out of touch with Stiles, he always had something to look back at to remember the amazing times that he had had with his best friend.

“I love it. Thank you, Stiles.”

The responding grin that he got was blinding.

-

-1 (18)

“I finally understand all of the fuss that everyone goes through when they reach their coming of age. You had your tattoo happening and Lydia had some weird sort of ritual that was still quite grand either way. I didn’t have so much a coming of age, but a giant feast! Apparently the son of the head of the coven coming of age is some giant thing and a lot of our allies came to the feast.”

Scott listened in rapt attention as Stiles started recounting his coming of age feast. Stiles had been looking forward to the celebration for weeks on end, even if he claimed that he had not been.

It was quite a sight to see Stiles wax poetically about everything that had happened earlier in the day. Just watching Stiles speak without abandon, he was always moving his hands and his face was so expressive, it was breathtaking.

What made it even better was that they were sitting across from each other in the entrance way of the burrow under the light of the waning moon. The light was playing off of Stiles’ skin beautifully. 

Ever since his own coming of age Scott had begun to realize that he had strong feelings for Stiles. Feelings towards the witch that were more than just friendship.

At first he had thought nothing of it, but he had started fiddling with the loose leather strands of the band he had gotten from Stiles one night and his mind had trailed back to how happy Stiles had been when he told him how much he loved getting the band. Stiles had gone through so much effort and time to make identical bands for them and that meant such a great deal to Scott.

To actually have a physical representation of their friendship to carry around with him at all times was the best thing. As crazy as it seemed, Scott almost thought that he felt even happier to look at the band than he felt when he was running without abandon with his pack mates during the full moon.

He was sure that if he came clean to his mother, or any pack mate for that matter, and told them how he felt about it they would certainly have him checked to make sure he wasn’t under a spell.

Scott was under a spell though. It wasn’t one that Stiles had cast, but it was a spell that had seeded itself in him from the moment they had stumbled over each other at their first meeting and had recently begun to fully blossom. 

“Now I haven’t seen Lydia in over three passings, and I have to say that she is one fine bit of stuff.” Stiles let out a huff and pretended to fan himself with his hands. “She still thinks I’m a complete mentaller though. But she’s always been like that. Mark my words; it will only be a short time before she realizes how much she needs this in her life.” He started gesturing at himself.

Lydia had been the subject of Stiles’ affections on and off over the passings. She was a banshee and her mother had an alliance with his father, so they saw each other every so often.

Normally Scott wasn’t bothered by hearing Stiles speak about Lydia at all, but now as he watched the witch passionately started telling the werewolf in detail about the banshee. He went on about her hair and her height and how her personality made her feel larger than life.

It was quite the pill to swallow actually. Stiles had spoken of Lydia quite often, but as he watched Stiles he could identify the smile that the witch tended to send his way more often than not. It irked him. 

It felt like something was gnawing tempestuously at the inside of his stomach. 

How would he feel if, or perhaps when, Lydia returned Stiles’ feelings? Scott was sure that it would feel similar to the idea of the moon falling out of the sky. He opened his mouth, intent on stopping Stiles’ rant, and found that he had no idea what to say.  
For many passings they had been friends, but what if his stronger feelings for Stiles were unrequited? Would the outing of his feelings be the end of their friendship?

Scott knew he didn’t want to do anything to endanger his friendship with Stiles. On the other hand, he knew that this was most likely one of his last chances to act upon his feelings.

He moved before he had even made up his mind. He placed both of his hands on Stiles’ knees as he leaned forward. Granted he moved a lot faster than he had expected and ended up knocking their teeth together. Scott leaned back with a soft hiss in pain, planting his hand on his mouth once he realized what he had done.

“Oh Mother Moon. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to- well I meant to. But I didn’t mean to! Can we maybe forget that that happened?” Scott groaned at his actions and ran his hands over his face. 

He was so sure that Stiles would reject him that he actually started when Stiles reached out to take his hands. Scott looked over at Stiles and found his breath catching in his throat when he saw the intensely serious look on the witch’s face. 

Stiles wasn’t saying anything, so that was a good thing. Or it was a very bad thing. Scott hadn’t seen Stiles look this serious very often, thus it was hard to decipher what was actually going through his head.

One moment Scott was thinking that it all was over and the next Stiles leaned forward and pressed his lips against Scott’s. 

Scott exhaled the breath that he had been holding in as he leaned into the kiss, his mind reeling as the thoughts in his head were scrambled. The mixture of Stiles being so close, Stiles smelling so wonderful, Stiles actually kissing him, had chased away any coherent thought in his mind. This was something that he had found himself wanting and now he had it.

It seemed like only a few short seconds when Stiles leaned back once more. Scott watched as bright brown eyes opened and a pink tongue ran over his lips. 

His thoughts slowly came back in order as Stiles pressed their foreheads together. His fingers were trailing over Stiles’ leather band, the witch’s fingers doing the same with his leather band, and he slowly noticed a scent in the air.

Scott looked around and saw that the grimoire was practically spilling over with pink plum blossoms. He couldn’t help the, slightly hysterical, chuckle that slipped past his lips. 

It only took a moment for Stiles to catch onto what had made Scott laugh and his cheeks flushed pink as he started muttering curses under his breath. The grimoire was still growing blossoms, which was a clear enough representation of what Stiles really felt like.

“You know, I think I really like you, Stiles Stilinski.” Scott recited from memory from all of those passings ago when they had met.

Stiles’ eyes brightened in recognition and he grinned once more. “The feeling is most definitely, most assuredly mutual, Scott McCall.”

They leaned forward once more; their lips meeting as they sat bathed in the moonlight under the alder tree that had become their sanctuary.


End file.
